2 - The Ruby Knight

by The Ruby Knight [lit]

  Sparhawk asked.

  "I'm not sure,' Flute replied. 'The last time I was here I

  was on foot. The horses should be able to go much

  faster.'

  'You were up here alone and on foot? With Trolls and

  Ogres about?' he asked incredulously.

  "I didn't see any of those. There was a young bear that

  followed me for a few days, though. I think he was only

  curious, but I got tired of having him behind me, so I

  made him go away.'

  Sparhawk decided not to ask her any more questions.

  The answers were far too disturbing.

  The high grassland seemed interminable. They rode

  for hours, but the skyline did not appear to change. The

  sun sank low above the snowy peaks, and they made

  their camp in a small clump of stunted pines.

  "It's big country up here,' Kurik said, looking around.

  He pulled his cloak closer about him. 'Cold too, once the

  sun goes down. Now I can see why most Thalesians wear

  fur.'

  They hobbled the horses to keep them from straying,

  and built up the fire.

  'There's no real danger here in this meadow,' Flute

  assured them. 'Trolls and Ogres like to stay in the forest.

  The hunting's easier for them when they can hide behind

  trees.'

  The next morning dawned cloudy, and a chilly wind

  swept down from the mountain peaks, bending the tall

  grass in long waves. They rode hard that day, and by

  evening they had reached the foot of the peaks that

  towered white above them. 'We can't make any fire

  tonight,' Flute said. 'Ghwerig may be watching.'

  'Are we that close?' Sparhawk asked.

  'You see that ravine just ahead?'

  "yes.'

  'Ghwerig's cave is at the upper end of it.'

  'Why didn't we just go on up there, then?'

  'That wouldn't have been a good idea. You can't sneak

  up on a Troll at night. We'll wait until the sun's well up

  tomorrow before we start out. Trolls usually doze in the

  daytime. They don't actually ever really sleep, but

  theire a little less alert when the sun's out.'

  "you seem to know a great deal about them.'

  "It's not too hard to find things out - if you know the

  right people to ask. Make Sephrenia some tea and some

  hot soup. Tomorrow's likely to be very difficult for her,

  and she'll need all her strength.'

  "It's a little hard to make hot soup without a fire.'

  'Oh, Sparhawk, I know that. I may be small, but I'm

  not stupid. Heap up a pile of rocks in front of the tent. I'll

  take care of the rest.'

  Grumbling to himself, he did as she directed.

  'Get back from it,' she said. "I don't want to burn you

  'Burn? How?'

  She began to sing softly, and then she made a brief

  gesture with one small hand. Sparhawk immediately felt

  the heat radiating out from his pile of rock.

  'That's a useful spell,' he said admiringly.

  'Start cooking, Sparhawk. I can't keep the rocks hot all

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  night.'

  It was very strange, Sparhawk thought, as he set

  Sephrenia's tea-kettle up against one of the heated rocks.

  Somehow in the past weeks he had almost begun to stop

  thinking of Flute as a child. Her tone and manner were

  adult, and she ordered him around like a lackey. Even

  more surprising was the fact that he automatically

  obeyed her. Sephrenia was right, he decided. This little

  girl was in all probability one of the most powerful

  magicians in all of Styricum. A disturbing question came

  to him. Just how old was Flute anyway? Could Styric

  magicians control or modify their ages? He knew that

  neither Sephrenia nor Flute would answer those questions,

  so he busied himself with cooking and tried not to

  think about it.

  They awoke at dawn, but Flute insisted that they wait

  until mid-morning before they attempted to ascend the

  ravine. She also instructed them to leave the horses at the

  camp since the sound of their hooves on the rocks might

  alert the sharp-eared Troll lurking inside the cave.

  The ravine was narrow with sheer sides, and it was

  filled with dense shadows. The four of them moved

  slowly up its rocky floor, placing their feet carefully to

  avoid dislodging any loose stones. They spoke but rarely

  and then only in whispers. Sparhawk carried the ancient

  spear. For some reason it seemed right.

  The climb grew steeper, and they were forced to

  clamber over rounded boulders now in order to continue

  their ascent. As they neared the top, Flute motioned

  them to a halt and crept on ahead a few yards. Then she

  came back. 'He's inside,' she whispered, 'and he's

  already started his enchantments.

  'is the cave-mouth blocked?' Sparhawk whispered

  back.

  'in a manner of speaking. When we get up there, you

  won't be able to see it. He's created an ilusion to make it

  look as if the mouth of the cave is just a part of the cliff

  face. The illusion is solid enough so that we won't be able

  to just walk through it. You'll need to use the spear to

  break through.' She whispered for a moment to

  Sephrenia, and the small woman nodded. 'All right,

  then,' Flute said, taking a deep breath, 'let's go.'

  They climbed up the last few yards and entered a

  bleak, unwholesome-looking basin choked with

  brambles and dead white snags. On one side of the basin

  there was a steep overhanging cliff that did not appear to

  have any openings in it.

  There it is,' Flute whispered.

  'Are you sure this is the right place?' Kurik murmured.

  "It looks like solid rock.'

  'This is the place,' she replied. 'Ghwerig's hiding the

  entrance.' She led the way along a scarcely defined path

  to the face of the cliff. "It's right here,' she said softly,

  laying one small hand on the rock. 'Now, this is what

  we're going to do. Sephrenia and I are going to cast a

  spell. When we release it, it's going to pour into you,

  Sparhawk. You'll feel very strange for a moment, and

  then you'll feel the power starting to build up inside you.

  At the right moment, I'll tell you what to do.' She began

  to sing very softly, and Sephrenia spoke in Styric almost

  under her breath. Then, in unison, they both gestured at

  Sparhawk.

  His eyes went suddenly dim, and he almost fell. He felt

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  very weak, and the spear he held in his left hand seemed

  almost too heavy to bear. Then, just as quickly, it seemed

  to have no weight at all. He felt his shoulders surging

  with the force of the spell.

  'Now,' Flute said to him, 'point the spear at the face of

  the cliff.'

  He lifted his arm and did as she had told him.

  'Walk forward until the spear touches the wall.'

  He took two steps and felt the spear-point touch the

  unyielding rock.

  'Release the p
ower - through the spear.'

  He concentrated, gathering the power within him. The

  ring on his left hand seemed to throb. Then he sent the

  power along the shaft of the spear into the broad blade.

  The seemingly solid rock in front of him wavered, and

  then it was gone, revealing an irregularly shaped

  opening. 'And there it is,' Flute said in a triumphant whisper,

  'Ghwerig's cave. Now let's go and find him.'

  *Chapter25

  The cave had the musty smell of long-damp earth and

  rock, and there was the sound of water endlessly

  dripping somewhere off in the darkness. 'Where's he

  most likely to be?' Sparhawk whispered to Flute.

  'We'll start in his treasure chamber,' she replied. 'He

  likes to look at his hoard. It's down there.' She pointed at

  the opening of a passageway.

  "It's completely dark back in there,' he said dubiously.

  "I'll take care of that,' Sephrenia told him.

  'But quietly,' flute cautioned. "We don't know exactly

  where Ghwerig is, and he can hear and feel magic.' She

  looked closely at Sephrenia. 'Are you all right?' she

  asked.

  "It's not as bad as it was,' Sephrenia replied, shifting Sir

  Gared's sword to her right hand.

  'Good. I'm not going to be able to do anything in here.

  Ghwerig would recognize my voice. You're going to

  have to do almost everything.'

  "I can manage,' Sephrenia said, but her voice sounded

  weary. She held up the sword. 'As long as I have to carry

  this anyway, I may as well use it.' She muttered briefly

  and made a small motion with her left hand. The tip of

  the sword began to glow, a tiny incandescent spark. "It's

  not much of a light,' she said critically, 'but it's going to

  have to do. If I made it any brighter, Ghwerig would see

  it.' She raised the sword and led the way into the mouth

  of the gallery. The glowing tip of the sword looked

  almost like a firefly in the oppressive darkness, but it cast

  just enough faint light to make it possible for them to find

  their way and avoid obstructions on the rough floor of

  the passageway they were following.

  The passage curved steadily downward and to the

  right. After they had gone a few hundred paces,

  Sparhawk realized that it was not a natural gallery, but

  rather that it had been carved out of the rock, and it

  moved in a steady spiral down and down. 'How did

  Ghwerig make this?' he whispered to Flute.

  'He used Bhelliom. The old passage is much longer,

  and it's very steep. Ghwerig's so badly deformed that it

  used to take him days to climb up out of the cave.'

  They moved on, walking as quietly as they could. At

  one point the gallery passed through a large cavern

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  where limestone icicles hung from the ceiling, dripping

  continually. Then the passage continued on into the

  rock. Occasionally, their faint light disturbed a colony of

  bats hanging from the ceiling, and the creatures chittered

  shrilly as they flapped frantically away in large, dark

  clouds.

  "I hate bats,' Kurik said with an oath.

  'They won't hurt you,' Flute whispered. 'A bat wil

  never run into you, not even in total darkness.'

  'Are their eyes that good?'

  'No, but their ears are.'

  'Do you know everything?' Kurik's whisper sounded a

  little grumpy.

  'Not yet,' she said quietly, 'but I'm working on that. Do

  you have anything to eat? I'm a little hungry for some

  reason. '

  "Some dried beef,' Kurik replied, reaching inside the

  tunic that covered his black leather vest. "It's very salty,

  though.'

  'There's plenty of water in this cave.' She took the

  chunk of leather-hard beef he offered and bit into it. "It is

  a little salty, isn't it?' she admitted, swallowing hard.

  They moved on. Then they saw a light coming from

  somewhere ahead, faint at first but growing steadily

  stronger as they moved on down the spiral gallery. 'His

  treasure cave is just ahead,' Flute whispered. 'Let me

  have a look.' She crept on ahead and then returned. 'He's

  there,' she said, her face breaking into a smile.

  'is he making that light?' Kurik whispered.

  'No. It comes down from the surface. There's a stream

  that drops down into the cavern. It catches the sunlight at

  certain times of the day.' She was speaking in a normal

  tone now. 'The sound of the waterfall will muffle our

  voices. We still have to be careful, though. His eyes will

  catch any movement.' She spoke briefly to Sephrennia,

  and the small Styric woman nodded. She reached up and

  extinguished the spark at the tip of the sword between

  two fingers. Then she began to weave an incantation.

  'What's she doing?' Sparhawk asked Flute.

  'Ghwerig's talking to himself,' she replied, 'and it

  might just be that he'll say something useful to us. He's

  speaking in the language of the Trolls, so Sephrenia's

  making it possible for us to understand him.'

  'You mean that she's going to make him speak in

  Elene?'

  'No. The spell isn't directed at him.' She smiled that

  impish little smile of hers. "you're learning many things,

  Sparhawk. Now you'll understand the language of the

  Trolls - for a time at least.'

  Sephrenia released the spell, and quite suddenly

  Sparhawk could hear much more than he had during

  their long descent through the spiralling gallery. The

  rushing sound of the waterfall dropping into the cavern

  ahead became almost a roar, and Ghwerig's rasping

  mutter came clearly over it.

  'We'll wait here for a time,' Flute told them. 'Ghwerig's

  an outcast, so he talks to himself most of the time, and he

  says whatever is crossing his mind. We can find out

  a great deal by eavesdropping. Oh, by the way, he has

  Sarak's crown, and Bhelliom's still attached to it.'

  Sparhawk felt a sudden rush of excitement. The thing

  he had sought for so long was no more than a few

  hundred paces away. 'What's he doing?' he asked Flute.

  'He's sitting at the edge of the chasm that the waterfall

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  has carved out of the rock. All his treasures are piled up

  around him. He's cleaning the peat-stains off Bhelliom

  with his tongue. That's why we can't understand him at

  the moment. Let's move a little closer, but stay back from

  the mouth of the gallery.'

  They crept on down towards the light and stopped a

  few yards from the opening. The reflected light from the

  waterfall shimmered and seemed to waver liquidly. It

  was peculiarly like a rainbow.

  "thieves! Thieves!' The voice was harsh, far harsher

  than any Elene or Styric throat could have produced.

  'Dirty. She all dirty.' There was more of the slobbering

  sound as the Troll-Dwarf licked at his treasure. 'Stealers

  all dead now,' Ghwerig cho
rtled hideously. 'All dead.

  Ghwerig not dead, and his rose come home at last.'

  'He sounds as if he's mad,' Kurik muttered.

  'He always has been,' Flute told him. 'His mind's as

  twisted as his body.'

  Talk to Ghwerig, Blue Rose!' the unseen monstrosity

  commanded. Then he howled out a hideous oath directed

  at the Styric Goddess Aphrael. 'Bring back rings

  Bring back rings! Bhelliom not talk to Ghwerig if Ghwerig

  not got rings!' There was a blubbering sound, and

  Sparhawk realized with revulsion that the beast was

  crying. 'Lonely,' the Troll sobbed. 'Ghwerig so lonely!'

  Sparhawk felt a wrench of almost unbearable pity for

  the misshapen dwarf.

  'Don't do that,' Flute said sharply. "It will weaken you

  when you face him. You're our only hope now,

  Sparhawk, and your heart must be like stone.'

  Then Ghwerig spoke for a time in terms so vile that

  there were no counterparts in the Elene language.

  'He's invoking the Troll-Gods,' Flute explained

  quietly. She cocked her head. 'Listen,' she said sharply.

  'The Troll-Gods are answering him.'

  The muted roar of the waterfall seemed to change tone,

  becoming deeper, more resonant.

  'We'll have to kill him very soon,' the little girl said in a

  chillingly matter-of-fact tone. 'He still has some fragments

  of the original sapphire left in his workshop. The

  Troll Gods instructed him to make new rings. Then

  they'll infuse them with the force to unlock the power of

  Bhelliom. He'll be able to destroy us at that point.'

  Then Ghwerig chuckled hideously. 'Ghwerig beat

  you, Azash. Azash a God, but Ghwerig beat him. Azash

  not ever see Bhelliom now.'

  'Can Azash possibly hear him?' Sparhawk asked.

  'Probably,' Sephrenia said calmly. 'Azash knows the

  sound of His own name. He listens when somebody says

  something to Him.'

  'Man-things swim in lake to find Bhelliom,' Ghwerig

  rambled on. 'Bug-thing belong Azash watch from weeds

  and see them. Man-things go away. Bug-thing bring

  man-things with no minds. Man-things swim in water.

  Many drown. One man-thing find Bhelliom. Ghwerig

  kill man-thing and take Blue Rose. Azash want Bhelliom?

  Azash come seek Ghwerig. Azash cook in Troll-God fire.

  Ghwerig never eat God-meat before. Ghwerig wonder

  how God-meat taste.'

  Deep within the earth there was a rumbling sound,

  and the floor of the cave seemed to shudder.

  'Azash definitely heard him,' Sephrenia said. 'You